


The Night We Met

by Rhaegar_Targaryen



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaegar_Targaryen/pseuds/Rhaegar_Targaryen
Summary: Clay is 21 when he dies.Clay is 16 when he wakes up with memories of the future that is his past and a second chance.





	1. Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how far I plan on taking this. I just really wanted to see the premise done. I need a Hannah happy ending. Clay/Hannah ending is just even better. I really enjoyed every single character in the show. Except for Bryce. He can choke.

“Are you almost here, honey?” his mom’s voice sounded loud in the quiet of the car and clear even over the rain pattering against the windows.

“Yes I am, Mom. Let the record show that’s the third time I’ve answered that question.”

His father snorted. “‘Let the record show’, really, Clay? You’re not in law school yet, buddy.”

“Keyword, _yet_ ,” Clay pointed out, turning the windshield wipers on high. It was starting to really come down. He should’ve left earlier. He hated driving in the rain and especially at night. “And why do you guys have me on speaker phone? I’m suddenly feeling vulnerable.” 

“Do you need a hug?” asked his mom. 

“I can hear you sipping wine over the phone,” said Clay. He knew she could probably tell he was smiling. “Is the hug for me or for you? Be honest. This isn’t an intervention.”

“This from my own son. Wow. They really do grow up so fast.”

The highway was practically a dark blur through the front window. He _really_ should've read the weather report. It didn’t even cross his mind in the hurricane he turned into when getting his bag packed. This sucked. He was tired, hungry, and craving some home cooking. College was totally awesome and all but living on a budget was the worst. Three years away from home and he cherished every time he could get away to come back.

Clay could hear dishes banging in the background. “Let’s see, you’re drinking and I hear World War III happening...I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess Dad’s cooking?”

“Hey! I take umbrage at that.” Came his father’s voice in the background. “Your mother will be cooking all day for Thanksgiving on Thursday, so I’m giving her a little break.”

Mrs. Jensen sighed. “It’s the little things.”

A loud wet smack and hum of appreciation were audible next. “Oh my, God. Can you two please not make out while I’m on the phone? I am a child.”

“You’re twenty-one,” said Mr. Jensen, dryly.

“Of God,” said Clay, talking right over his mother’s muffled laugh. “I’m a child of God. You interrupted me.”

“One semester of philosophy of law and he thinks he’s Matlock.”

“Who’s Matlock?” asked Clay.

“I really just aged myself,” muttered Mr. Jensen.

Clay braced himself for one of his dad’s faux outraged rants about youths, skinny jeans, and how paperback books were an extinct species. It was a lot. Clay frowned as the cars ahead began to slow and numerous red brake lights became visible in the downpour.

“Great,” he groaned, adjusting the phone. “I think I’m about to hit traffic.”

“Please be careful, sweetheart,” his mother pleaded.

Clay wilted at the worry in her tone and reassured her, “I’ll be extra careful, alright. In fact, I’ll be home in no time. Tell Justin not to eat all—”

He looked at the navigation screen on the dash and glanced back up at the sound of tires screeching and he was blinded by the oncoming lights flooding the driver’s side window.

“Mom, I—” Clay cried out, the words drowned out by the awful, wrenching noise of metal tearing into metal as the oncoming car slammed into the driver’s side door.

Glass exploded around him, metal screeched impossibly loud, and there was a sudden burst of pain in the side of his head that sent him into darkness.

Then there was light, pure and radiant, shining all around him.

It was warm and Clay felt lighter than he had in a long time as if some burden, he hadn’t even been aware of, was lifted from his shoulders. A faint melody echoed in the distance, haunting, familiar and he realized it had been playing for a long time. He knew this song.

It was the most amazing song.

….

Clay jerked awake with a choked off cry. A headache pounded between his eyes. He touched a hand to his forehead and winced. It felt like the Hulk went apeshit all across his face while he slept.  

His heart was racing. Oh, God. He felt like he was about to throw up. What kind of sick dream was that? It felt… it felt so real. He wiped at his eyes and was surprised to see his fingers come away wet. Was… was he crying?

“What?” he murmured.

First things first, he needed to stop seeing double. Then he was going to follow that up with a handful of Tylenol for this monster headache. That dream, no that wasn’t right, that nightmare was intense.

Clay half expected to find himself in a hospital room. He was glad to be wrong. The room was dark and his vision hadn’t quite gotten the memo and everything was still kind of blurry. It took a minute to place the familiar furniture. Even slightly dizzy he still recognized his childhood stomping grounds. The sight of his old bedroom eased some of his frayed nerves.

That nightmare had his stomach in knots. He couldn’t shake it. What time was it? The curtains were drawn, but he could see the sun was up.

“Clay?” A voice called through the closed door. “It’s morning, sweetie. Up and at ‘em. Let’s go. I made breakfast.”

“What?” he muttered, feeling a sort of detached numbness.

The door opened and his mom stood in the doorway dressed for work. “I could barely hear you through the door,” she said, striding over the pile of clothes on the floor to pull open the curtains. “Would it kill you to clean up here? Breakfast is ready. You might want to shower soon before you're late.”

Clay blinked. He heard all of that, but none of it made any sense. “I don’t remember getting home last night,” he said, wincing as the sunlight made his headache worse. Way to go Mom.

Mrs. Jensen put a hand over her heart feigning shock. “You mean to tell me you don’t remember my prize-winning pasta last night. You said it was, and I’m quoting here, ‘totally awesome’.” She shook her head. “Heartbreaker, I tell you.”

He squinted at his mom, something about her looked different. “Did you get a haircut?”

“No, why?” she asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to butter me up for something?”

“What? No,” Clay admitted, shaking his head. “I...  think I had a nightmare? Plus, I’m pretty sure this headache is going to kill me.”

Worry softened her face and for some reason, she looked younger than she had in a long time. The observation froze him so suddenly that he barely winced when she laid her hand across his brow to feel his temperature.

“Are you feeling up for school today?” Mrs. Jensen peered closer at his face. “You don’t feel like you’re running a fever.”

Finally, it clicked to what this whole routine reminded him of. It was reminiscent of his childhood mornings. “School?” he repeated. He pulled away from her a bit. “School let out for Thanksgiving break. I had my last final yesterday. Do you have my schedule mixed up with Justin's again?”

Mrs. Jensen eyebrows shot up. “Who? That must have been some dream.” She looked pointedly at the calendar tacked above his dresser. “You might want to climb into your DeLorean, McFly. It’s January and you have class in—” she pulled out her iPhone, and Clay’s eyes widened at seeing an older model of the device. “in an hour and fifteen minutes.”

“How—“ Clay trailed off, staring at the date scrolled beneath the time on his mother’s phone.

Mrs. Jensen frowned. “You want me to go get you something for your head?”

Clay looked at her, really looked at her. Her hair was shorter than what he remembered seeing on FaceTime yesterday and there were fewer wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. He felt ice run down his back.

“I’m fine,” he said, slowly.

The date burned behind his eyelids. January 27, 2017. A day five years long gone.

Yesterday he was playing frisbee golf in the quad at Berkeley. _Really, Clay. That’s your best throw._ His roommate teased him from across the lawn. He’d gotten too much sun and burned a little.

 _Really, no one thought to bring sunscreen,_ Clay remembered telling his friends.

He stared down at his pale hands. They were missing the ink stains on his fingertips from when he accidentally busted his pen last night. Was he losing it? He hadn’t need to see a shrink in years. Not since—

“Clay?”

He looked up and self-preservation instincts took hold, a smile forming on his face by habit, “Sorry, Mom. I’m fine,” he said, scratching his head. “Still kind of rattled, you know. I just need some Tylenol to kick this headache.”

“Right, okay,” she stood up, looking a bit reluctant to leave. She could sense something was off he could tell. “You sure you’re okay?”

Clay crossed his heart with a finger. “Promise,” he lied.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Clay held out a hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ll grab it from the medicine cabinet when I shower. No big deal.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Jensen agreed, hesitantly. She glanced down at the time on her phone and grimaced. “I’m running behind. Alright, if you start to feel bad at school call me. I’ll come and pick you up.”

He nodded. “Got it. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, honey,” she kissed him on the cheek, and then tossed back a hurried, “Love you,” before leaving the room.

The breath he didn’t realize he was holding rushed out of his lungs. Okay, he was panicking. He was officially fucking panicking. His fingers slid into his hair and he tugged hard. The pain grounded him.

Nobody could just dream five years of a life. That didn’t even make sense. It was real. Wasn’t it? But this was real, too. The pain was proof. Or was the pain a figment of his imagination? He remembered living this year, he remembered high school, graduating, moving away, his years away at Berkeley. He was a junior in college. Not a sophomore in high school. This didn’t make any sense.

The last thing he remembered was packing up his bags and driving down from school to visit his parents for break. The crash—

He touched the side of his head where it still hurt, where pain exploded through his body before he.. he what? He died. Was this some version of the afterlife?

That was impossible. He needed to figure out what was happening before he went into some half assed theory.

“Get it together,” he scolded himself.

God, he couldn’t stop shaking. Clay stared at his hands and clenched his fists to stop the tremors. He stared around his bedroom. It was both foreign and familiar all at once. Little things were off from before he moved out, but it was the same room from when he was sixteen.

He fought the urge to throw up.

Clay got out of bed still glancing around the room taking everything in. He felt like he was in a museum and stuck in some exhibit showcasing a long-lost tomb. Finally, he managed to stumble into the bathroom closing the door shut firmly behind him. He sprinted to the mirror now that it was in sight.

Wide eyes took in the skinny frame, pale skin, and dark tousled hair. His mouth went dry. Clay ran a trembling hand over his cheeks. There was no muscle tone from years of swimming, his hair lacked the closer cut he preferred. He looked so young. He looked like his old pictures from when he was a teenager. God, he _was_ a teenager. He was sixteen.

Clay stumbled back, shocked.

His reflection stared back at him. He looked scared, lost, and he felt truly and profoundly fucked.

“How the _fuck?”_  he hissed, squeezing his eyes closed tight.

He took deep heaving breaths. Clay tried to remember his exercises from when he used to have panic attacks as a kid. It had been years since he had an episode. This was insane. He sat down on the edge of the tub with his head between his knees trying to catch his breath and pull together what was left of his sanity.

It was real. His life wasn’t imaginary. He refused to think the last five years were some warped fantasy dreamed up by his teenage self. He lived through it all, every good and bad moment, and was thankful for each day. It couldn’t have been a dream.

It wasn’t.

Clay’s thoughts went to his parents and the last words they exchanged and his heart clenched tight. It was like some phantom hand plunged into his chest and _squeezed._

If he died, even the thought pained him, then he left his parents with the sound of his death echoing through the phone. He choked up. That would destroy them. Oh, God and Justin would be an absolute wreck.

Faces flashed through his mind, the family and friends he left behind.

Young again, he felt helpless and achingly alone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the ghosts of his future’s past.

Tears slipped down Clay’s cheeks as he mourned the life he couldn’t go back to.

He was torn up that he couldn’t see anyone one last time, and more than that, every part of him was heartbroken that he never got to say goodbye.

…

Mr. Jensen pulled into the staff parking lot of the university. He groaned at the sight of Barbara's old Lincoln parked in two lanes. One of those that just happened to be his designated parking spot. She was pushing 90 so he felt bad talking to her about it, but it was getting out of hand. He was counting the days until her retirement.

He fished his cell phone from the cup holder and pulled up Clay’s number while he turned into the street that led to the public parking garage. It rang for a while before Clay picked up.

“Hey, buddy,” Mr. Jensen said, adjusting the phone with one hand so he could put on his blinker. “Your mom told me you were feeling off this morning. How are you are holding up?”

Clay’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet and subdued, “...I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

A sigh followed his reply. “Dad it’s kind of early. I just need some caffeine.”

“If you say so,” replied Mr. Jensen.

The reluctance to talk wasn’t surprising. Clay had always been a shy kid. He was introverted, thoughtful, kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. He also tended to bottle things up, picking at them until it left him sullen and moody.

“Listen, Clay, if you need to stay home from school--” Mr. Jensen began.

Clay cut him off. “I’m fine. My headache is pretty much gone.”

“Okay,” he said, slightly relieved at the reassurance. Clay still didn't sound like himself, but he was chalking that up to the headache. “If you don’t feel up to riding your bike maybe Tony can give you a ride.”

“Tony…” Clay repeated, slowly. “Give me a ride?”

Mr. Jensen frowned. “Did you and Tony have a falling out?”

Tony and Clay had been friends since they were kids. Tony was textbook polite even if he looked like the token teenage bad boy in a sitcom. Mr. Jensen always thought some of his charm would be good for Clay, maybe loosen him up a little.

“No. That’s not it.” Clay paused and said,  “I’d rather drive myself.”

Sure, Clay had his learner’s permit but he never mentioned actually following through on taking the test. The last time they went out for a drive, Clay’s anxiety left him so flustered that Mr. Jensen had to gently coax him into pulling over so Clay could calm down.

“What happened to your bike being good enough?” he asked, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

“I think I’m ready to try again with the whole driving thing,” said Clay and the determination was clear in his voice. “I was just overwhelmed by it at first, but I feel like this time I’ll surprise you. We can go for a drive later and I can show you I’m serious.”

Mr. Jensen was speechless. It was a long moment before he recovered and said, “Sure, kiddo. I think that’s a fantastic idea.” He shook off his confusion. “Just give me the word and we’ll go. Listen, I’m pulling into work. Have a good day at school, Clay.”

“I will. See you when you get home.”

Mr. Jensen parked and stared thoughtfully down at his phone.

If he was being honest the conversation left him kind of dazed. He wondered what brought about this change in attitude. Not that he was complaining. He always thought Clay just needed some time to build up to breaking out of his shell.

The sincere resolve in his voice had been a fresh change.

Well, whatever was going to get him to start trying new things then Mr. Jensen was all for it. He wanted Clay to see in himself all the amazing qualities his parents saw him in every day.

…

After a complete and total mental breakdown in the bathroom Clay was back in his bedroom. He sat on the old futon trying to come to terms with what was now his life. The sick feeling that he really wasn’t going to wake up in bed in his apartment was growing, pulling at his thoughts and sending his mood spiraling downward.

 _This was it_ he thought, closing his eyes feeling suddenly tired. He was stuck here, as unbelievable as it was.

Clay was trying to come to grips with the fact that he _died_.

There was plenty he wished he got to do. He was going to travel after getting his degree and see the world. He had it all planned out. Thailand first then from there he was going to pick another destination at random.

That dream seemed so bittersweet.

A ringing sound broke his cycle of angst filled thoughts. It took forever before he found the phone wedged underneath his pillows.

His dad started talking as soon as the call connected. “Hey, buddy. Your mom told me you were feeling off this morning. How're you holding up?”

If they were counting his earlier sobbing in the bathroom when he was on the fucking edge of losing it.

His subdued, “...I’m fine,” surely said exactly how he was feeling.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Years of dodging his parents' audits into his daily activities kicked in and Clay deflected the rest of his dad’s probing questions with his mind still wandering to what ifs. What if he left earlier in the day instead of sleeping in would the accident still happen, what if it wasn’t raining, what if, what if, and on and on the thoughts went until he couldn’t think straight.

“Tony…” said Clay, catching on to his dad’s current line of questioning about having the older boy pick him up. “Give me a ride?”

“Did you and Tony have a falling out?” asked Mr. Jensen, picking up on the bafflement in Clay’s voice.

Clay wanted to laugh. Why would he need a ride from Tony? He could drive himself. Plus, Tony lived in San Francisco. The thought was automatic but so very wrong and it was staggering. He almost dropped the phone as it him. Clay at 21 didn’t need rides. But 16 year old Clay was a different person, shy, awkward, and very much still a kid in a lot of ways.

His heart hammered loud in his ears. He _was_ 16 years old.

Memories he didn’t let himself think about came to life from the depths of his mind. He stared at the calendar on the wall. _Winter Formal_ was written in blue ink and circled. He looked at the date and swallowed. Two days from now.

Suddenly the enormity of it all hit him.

Clay had spent all this time mourning the life he left behind. He didn’t see the life that was now ahead of him. He had a lot of regrets and the biggest ones hadn’t happened yet. The idea took root feeling a lot like electricity buzzing underneath his skin.

He could do it all over again.

“That’s not it,” Clay answered, closing his eyes at the onslaught of memories. “I’d rather drive myself.”

Clay knew his answer sent his dad reeling. At 16 he had just stopped taking his medication and was still painfully shy. The idea of driving on the freeway used to paralyze him. He had gotten over that particular fear a long time ago. A lot of things didn’t scare him anymore.

It was because of this year. It had been the roughest of his life. He had to grow up early.

After assuring his dad at how serious he was, Clay hung up and walked over to the calendar. The future dates were there waiting to be filled and the sight of them left him breathless. The tapes hadn’t been made yet.

A name he hadn’t, _couldn’t_ , say aloud in a long time left his lips in a whisper, “Hannah.”

She was still alive.

A disbelieving smile tugged at his lips as he felt something in his chest pull loose. Adrenaline sparked at his heart making shake and _want_. 

Clay quickly unlocked his phone and went to her name in the contacts. His finger almost hit the call button before he stopped. Her voice was the one constant thing he remembered most about her. Hannah’s confessions were seared into his soul. If he heard her voice over the phone, alive and well, it would break his heart all over again. He needed to see her, help her, stop her from taking her own life. That wasn’t all. He needed to be better this time. He wanted to be there for her.

Just by having his license would change so much.

He could give Hannah a ride home from Jessica’s party, Sheri wouldn’t down the stop sign, and Jeff wouldn’t… Oh, God. Jeff was alive too. Clay pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes stopping the hot tears that were trying to fall.

Could he really do this?

The idea was crazy, change the future? But it wouldn’t be out of his reach to do so. He knew what was in store. All he needed to do was prevent a few events and it was possible. Hannah deserved better.

That thought alone made Clay straighten his shoulders. Determination was pulsing through his veins. He could do this. He was going to do better this time. For all of them. For Hannah.


	2. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to school and in which Clay starts making plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the really nice comments! I'm glad I'm not the only one craving a fix fic. I'm trying my best to reply to them all. The next chapter is the Winter Formal. I'm so looking forward to writing that. That's when we'll see changes to canon. I'm shooting for updating at least once a week. Crossing my fingers! Oh, and I'm going to do a re-watch so I can get character details right. So bear with me if something is off.

Clay looked up at the looming building that was center stage to some of the best and worst memories of his life. It was terrifying because Clay, for a long heartbeat, had a real understanding of just how in over his head he truly was. A glance at his phone showed it was barely eleven in the morning. He could’ve skipped, but sitting at home was going to drive him insane. If he didn’t see her, if this turned out to be some vivid dream and he woke up, the thought stole his breath and it felt a lot like drowning.

Walking into the school was surreal. It was exactly how he remembered right down to the posters on the wall advertising the Winter Formal dance. Clay made his way to his locker, fingertips tracing over the cool metal.

He turned the lock a few times hoping the combination would come back to him or muscle memory would kick in. It had been years since he needed to use this locker. Clay sighed and gave up. It was a lost cause. The bell rang startling him and not a moment later classroom doors were opening, flooding the halls with students.

A sea of familiar faces mingled among each other and walked past him not giving his gobsmacked stare a second glance. The whole thing felt so bizarre like some fantasy he secretly prayed and wished for in the quiet of the night when regret crept upon him in his darkest days. It was a chance to make things right.

Clay didn’t even realize he was unconsciously looking for her until she appeared. Tears burned his eyes as Hannah Baker parted the crowd and walked up to her locker. She took a moment to adjust the sleeves of a checkered flannel shirt that slipped down her arms. Long brown hair fell past her shoulders and those clear blue eyes were just as haunting as he remembered. Hannah must have felt his gaze because she looked up, meeting his stare with a puzzled frown. She lifted her eyebrows and gave him a teasing smile, wiggling her fingers in a little wave.

He felt this soul smile and pulse and shatter. It hurt but in the best possible way. Seeing Hannah here breathing, smiling and _alive_ , was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. It was like watching the sun rise for the first time. It was beautiful.

Hannah closed her locker and headed Clay’s way. His palms were sweating. Oh, God, this was actually happening. For a moment, but it felt like a moment of infinite width, Clay saw visions of Hannah dancing at prom, walking across the stage at graduation, and stargazing on the roof of the Cresmont with the moon bright above. Clay desperately wanted that life for her. More than anything.

“Hey, Helmet,” said Hannah, ruffling up his hair as soon as she was within arms reach. “Finally decided to grace the people with your presence I see. I thought you were playing hooky.” She crossed her arms and looked him up and down. “I was oddly impressed.”

The teasing smirk on her face was enough to undo him. He felt 16 all over again. Clay’s face melted into a shy smile. “I’m impressive.”

A wide surprised smile split her face. “Oh, are you now?”

“Stick with me, kid,” he murmured the words from a future that was. He stared into her eyes, suddenly devastatingly sad and happy at once.

Hannah looked down at the ground, shaking her head like she was amused by the entire ordeal. “You snuck and watched _Strictly Ballroom_ during break too, huh?”

It hit Clay right then, the irony of the situation. Once upon a time, Clay had been too afraid to hit on Hannah and the one time he was, after time traveling into the freaking past, she thought he was kidding. It was pathetic.

“I’m hitting on you, you know,” explained Clay.

“I don't know that line. I have to confess I didn’t see the whole movie,” admitted Hannah, but in a tone that said she clearly didn’t realize he was serious. “You’re a real rebel, Clay Jensen. Who knew?”

Clay shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his entire body, but he was smiling. “What can I say? I like to keep you guessing. You zig, I zag.”

Hannah let out a burst of pleased laughter that made his stomach go all weird. “Mission accomplished then.”

Clay took his hands out of his pockets and wrapped his fingers around Hannah’s left wrist. She froze, eyes widening a little with surprise. He licked his lips and his heart thumped so loudly he was worried she might hear.

“I heard you’re going to the dance with Courtney and her friends.”

“You heard right,” she said, carefully.

“I’ll be there, too,” said Clay, his eyes locked on Hannah’s. “Save me a dance?”

When Hannah’s normally quick and quiet blue eyes softened and grew warm Clay knew he didn’t overstep. Her smile was small but genuine.

“Clay Jensen dances too? Will the surprises never cease.”

“Never,” answered Clay, meaning it.

His fingers still lingered around her wrist and beneath his fingertips, he could feel her pulse racing.

They were jostled and Clay dropped his hand back to his side. They looked around to see kids hurrying to their next class. Hannah glanced at her watch and made a face. She made a little awkward gesture pointing to their sprinting classmates.

“Guess, we better, uh... go,” said Hannah, studying Clay as if waiting for him to say something else out of character.

They exchanged a smile, and Clay knew this was it.

Clay watched her walk away and it was true what they say. Time heals all wounds. The thought of her death didn’t rocket him into misery anymore, and yet other feelings remained. Clay had always been a hopeless romantic right down to his core.

Five years in the past, 16 years old, and Clay Jensen was once again without a doubt completely and undeniably in love with Hannah Baker.

…

Mockups were spread across the library table. Tony dragged one of the photos across the table. He tapped it with his finger. Sitting across from him, Ryan looked up from his drafting at the sound. He glanced at the picture and then pursed his lips.

“I already know where you’re going with this.”

Tony gave him a look. “Do you now?”

“I know it’s a little low brow, but if it’s going around the school then it’s news,” argued Ryan, shrugging in a little _well what I can do_ gesture.

“Doesn’t mean it needs to go into the Zine,” replied Tony.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “The news doesn’t take sides. In fact, I would say I have an obligation to publish this picture. It’s rather lovely when you think about it. There’s an unguarded quality to it. The moment is intimate and there’s that mix of lust and playfulness in the act itself.”

Tony rolled his eyes. He hated when Ryan got like this, standing tall on his soapbox and annoyingly patronizing. “I don’t know about all of that. It looks like a private moment to me.” The two girls in the photograph weren’t easily identifiable, but he knew what the jocks were taking bets on. “I didn’t know you wanted the Zine to be TMZ.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed. “Please raise the bar a little.”

“Perez Hilton,” Tony countered. He smirked at the look on Ryan’s face. “Because that’s what you’ll be doing, you know. This counts as outing.”  
  
“You can’t even tell who it is,” said Ryan, scowling.

Tony shook his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

He knew Ryan had heard the rumors about what the jocks were saying. Bryce Walker talked too much, but no one was really giving it much thought because Courtney Crimsen didn’t ping on anybody’s radar.

Ryan sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine.” He gathered up the mockups and shoved them into his messenger bag. “Looks like I have to fill a suddenly empty spot for my next issue.”

“You’re a real saint,” Tony smiled, feeling a little happy. He knew Ryan was all heart underneath.

Ryan stood up, shouldering his bag and pointing at Tony. “You owe me for this. Saturday your outfit matches mine.”

“Only shirts,” Tony snapped, laying his hands flat on the table. “No matching ties, corsages or whatever. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Fine,” Ryan agreed, eyes gleaming with triumph.

Tony didn’t give him the satisfaction of watching him walk away. He liked Ryan and all, but as far as boyfriends went Ryan was high maintenance. Tall, witty, blond and out and proud gay. He was different than the guys he grew up around and sometimes he felt like they were from two different worlds.

“You can do better.”

Tony’s head snapped up as Clay slid into the seat Ryan vacated. Tony glanced around the library, because where in the hell did he even come from? Clay took out his physics textbook opening it up and immediately began highlighting paragraphs with a concentrated expression.

Tony leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Well hello to you too, Clay. Now, what was that?”

Clay looked up and said nonchalantly, “You can do better. Ryan’s not even your type.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Are you about to come out to me?”

“What? No,” Clay said, and then his eyes narrowed. “Wait. Why did you say it like that?”

It wouldn’t be wise to say he thought Clay was going to admit having a crush on Tony. Not that Clay was a bad looking guy, but Tony kind of thought of him as a kid brother or a particularly adorable puppy.

Tony sidestepped the question. “I was under the impression you didn’t even know I was gay.”

Clay gave him a flat look. “The hair, the jacket, the car… Your James Dean crush speaks volumes.”

Tony looked down at the table, fighting to tamp down the rebellious grin threatening to split his face. “Point.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” said Clay, poking Tony’s hand with his highlighter. “You’re still my friend.”

He had to admit the tension in his shoulders eased at the admission. “I’m not going to hug it out with you if that’s what you’re angling for.”

“Ha ha,” said Clay, dryly.

Tony didn’t bother to smother his grin this time. He stared at Clay appraisingly. There was something different about him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It was in the way he held himself and the curve of his smile, little things but when added together, produced someone unmistakably comfortable in their skin. It was a good look on Clay.

“So what’s got you so interested in my dating life?” asked Tony.

Clay spread his hands in a faux innocent gesture. “I’m just being a good friend.”

“We’ve known each other since elementary. Try again.”

“Okay, okay. I need a favor.”

Tony smirked. “Ah, there we go.” He waved his hand. “Let’s hear it.”

“You have one of those old tape recorders with a mic, right?”

The question kind of threw him. He wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it before.”

“Really?” Tony asked because that wasn’t something he usually brought up. “I guess I do. I picked up one from Goodwill a while back. They had it marked for five bucks. Can you believe that?”

“Five whole dollars? Wow. They didn’t know what they had on their hands,” Clay deadpanned.

Tony slapped the table. “I know right.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” said Clay, dragging the word out. “You think I could borrow it?”

This entire conversation was so strange. “Sure. I’ll look for it when I get home after I finish up at the shop tonight.”

Clay beamed. “Perfect.”

“So, what do you need it for?”

There was a brief pause before Clay replied, eyes looking at the ceiling with the most curious smile on his face, “An oral history project.”

Tony leveled him with a sly stare. He finally put his finger on what was so different about him. “It’s for a girl isn’t it.”

Clapping his hands, Clay pushed back his chair and stood up. “This has been fun. I got a lot of studying in. This was the most productive study hall period in all of history.”

“Deflecting,” Tony laughed quietly, ignoring the pointed glare from a girl camped at the table across from them.

Clay didn’t bother to deny the accusation, smiling coyly. “Catch you later. Don’t forget the recorder."

“Yeah, yeah, Romeo. I got it.”

Tony turned back to his homework chuckling to himself. That was not the quiet and mild mannered friend he was used to. Tony wondered who was the lucky girl that brought out this new bold version of Clay. She had to be really special.

…

Dinner was proving to be quite the show. His parents were doing that thing where they talked with their eyes. The silent communication was a staple of his childhood. They didn’t realize that Clay had long ago cracked their little code.  
  
“I’m sitting right here. You guys can stop with the parental telepathy,” said Clay, slicing into his steak with relish. His dad really outdid himself.

“Oh look, he’s found us out,” said Mr. Jensen, dryly.

“Our plans are foiled.”

Clay slow clapped. “Do you guys practice these little skits? Because well done.”

Mrs. Jensen bowed her head a little. “I'm ignoring the sarcasm since the praise is my due. We’re just a little curious, honey.”

“More than curious,” said Mr. Jensen. He pointed a forkful of mashed potatoes at Clay. “I expected you to do well on our little joyride, but you blew me away. You drove like you’ve been doing it for years.”

Clay snorted. “I’m not Mario Andretti.”

Mr. Jensen pinned him with a patient stare. With his shaggy hair and glasses, he looked like an affable professor, which he was. “I’m being serious. You looked completely comfortable behind the wheel. You really impressed me.”

“Where did the newfound skill come from?” asked Mrs. Jensen.

Gee, I time traveled and now somehow I’m stuck in my teenage body. Plus, Justin was an excellent driver and taught him everything he knew. “Confidence, I guess,” Clay settled on saying. “I believed I could do it and I did.”

“It definitely did wonders,” Mr. Jensen praised.

He decided to go ahead and drop the bombshell while they were still easily impressed and pleased by his progress. Clay settled his utensils on the plate and looked at his parents carefully.

“I want to take the test tomorrow and get my driver’s license.”

His parents traded a look. Mrs. Jensen frowned a little. “I know you did well today, but are you sure the test won’t put too much pressure on you?”

Considering he took the test when he was 17 in the other timeline and had been driving for years, it was going to be a piece of cake. Clay was touched by her concern. At 16, living in a constant state of anxiety that he learned how to operate through, the test would have sent a dark cloud of nervous energy spreading over him.

Mr. Jensen touched his wife’s hand, but directed his question at Clay, “You got this?”  
  
“I’ll give you a shout out right before I take the picture for my new license.”

Mrs. Jensen snorted. “Cocky. He takes after you.”

Mr. Jensen tilted his head. “Funny. I was going to say he’s definitely your kid.”

“Someone should really break down how babies are made for you guys.” Clay’s eyes widened and he slapped his hands on the table. “Not it!”

“Not it!” Mr. Jensen yelled.

Mrs. Jensen took a long look at them both. She picked up her wine glass staring mournfully at the remaining bit left. “This is why I drink.”

Clay nodded in understanding. “Life comes at you fast.”

Mr. Jensen let out a bark of laughter. Mrs. Jensen tried and failed to hide the grin that took over her face. Clay smiled down at his food feeling content. It was like the ground was finally stable again and for the first time he thought,  _I’m going to be okay_.

…

School the next day wasn’t so terrible. Clay didn’t have difficulty getting up to speed. Even with his advanced placement schedule, the classes were still ones he had taken and passed before. Interacting with his classmates was easier this time around. That barrier of awkwardness his teenage self carried around protecting himself from the world had been broken a long time ago.

He studiously avoided any eye contact with the main stars of Hannah's tapes. In fact, he tried not to think about any of them for now. Clay had a plan for what was on the horizon, but for right now he was putting all his energy into making sure the dance went right. Then he would tackle what came next.

Thankfully Clay had his freak out, silently and far away, when he caught sight of Jeff yesterday.  So today when Jeff walked up to him in the hall in between classes, Clay beamed and just barely refrained from throwing his arms around him.

“Clay, my man,” said Jeff, smiling back just as widely. He fist bumped Clay. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

That’s what Clay liked most about Jeff and had missed every day. His eternal upbeat energy and charm were one of a kind. When he died it was like the lights around here had dimmed and Hannah’s death had fully extinguished them.

Clay pretended to be shocked. “Can’t a guy just be in a good mood around here?”

Jeff grinned standing tall, handsome and with his varsity jacket on, looking like he belonged on the cover of the school's brochure. “Answering the question with a question! I see how it is. I better see you at the dance tomorrow and no bailing early.”

“How dare you,” gasped Clay with mock outrage. “I _will_ see you at that dance, sir. And I will even dance. How about that!”

Jeff laughed so hard that Clay could see his back molars. He swore Jeff's smile could light up a room. “Whoa, there. Slow down, no one is auditioning for _Dancing with the Stars_ here. But I dig the enthusiasm. It’s a good look on you.”

Someone called Jeff’s name down the hall and Clay waved him off as whoever it was screamed his name again. He forgot how the jocks acted like they ruled the school. He hadn't missed that. Clay opened his locker tucking the slip with his printed combo back into his backpack. He was lucky the secretaries in the office liked him. Mrs. Karpowicz didn’t bat an eye when he asked for it.

Clay exchanged his books out quickly and closed the locker door. He jumped seeing Tony leaning against the lockers previously blocked by the open door.

“Jesus Christ, Tony,” Clay grabbed his chest. “You and your freaky Jedi tricks, man. Ring a bell, blow a whistle or something next time.”

“Going to be alright there, princess?”

Clay lifted his chin. “Your concern is touching.”

Tony reached into his backpack displaying the tape recorder and mic. “As requested.”

Clay’s face lit up. “Sweet, you’re doing me a real solid.”

He took the tape recorder and placed it in his backpack. It felt a little odd looking at it and knowing what it had been used for once. Clay promised it wouldn’t serve the same purpose in this lifetime. He had much different plans for its use.

“Are you going to tell me what you need it for?”

“Now that will be ruining the surprise.”

Tony held up his hands and stepped back. “Keep your secrets. Tell me this. Who's the girl?”

At even the thought of her Clay’s gaze automatically drifted across the hallway. Today she was in jeans, a blue baggy sweater, and Clay’s heart sped up at the sight of her. Hannah tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she rummaged through her locker.

Tony followed his stare and then nodded approvingly. “For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you.”

Clay bumped his shoulder against Tony’s. “Want to be my fairy godfather?”

“Is that a gay joke?” Tony asked. He shook his head. “Homophobia is not a good look on you.”

Clay squinted at him. “Do you or do you not want me to tag along to Pride with you this year?”

Tony laughed, shaking his head. “And suddenly I remember why we’re friends.”

“You’re deejaying at the dance right?”

“The check cleared so looks like it.”

“If I request a song would you play it?”

“If I have it. What’s the name of the song?”

Clay’s gaze strayed across the hallway again. Hannah shut her locker and her eyes found his, locking their stare and he got this weird sort of electric buzz that crackled all over his skin. The crowd suddenly grew breaking their view of each other. It was far too brief.

“You’ve got it bad,” said Tony, catching the expression on Clay’s face. He frowned and leaned forward not catching Clay’s quiet reply. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“The song. It's  _The Night We Met_.”

“You got it. Nice taste by the way. Any particular reason why?”

Clay smiled down at the ground remembering a girl with burning blue eyes and a slow dance that ended too early. He vowed tomorrow would be different.


	3. Repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Formal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thanks for commenting and all the lovely kudos! I appreciate them all so much. I will reply to a few recent ones I haven't got to yet later. It's getting pretty late now. I'll also do some editing tomorrow. I'm sure my tired eyes missed some stuff. The next chapter will take place during V day just FYI.

Looking in the mirror Clay had to admit he didn’t look so bad considering the night of restless sleep. He scrubbed a hand down his face, leaning on the sink and scrutinizing his red eyes. He should have taken shots of NyQuil or something last night to drown out all the thoughts that kept him awake.

He wanted this day to go well so badly. Tonight was the Winter Formal and no matter what he was dedicated to seeing history rewritten.

Clay turned on the shower and the bathroom quickly filled with steam. He needed to freaking relax and a nice hot shower was going to do the trick.

An hour later, freshly dressed in jeans and a hoodie Clay bounded downstairs. His body felt loose, pliant and there was a pep in his step. Mr. Jensen sat at the kitchen table chewing on a piece of toast.

He looked up at Clay over the top of his iPad. “Great job using up all the hot water for the next month. Really awesome, kiddo.”

Leaning against the fridge Clay peeled a banana and stared at his dad with a flat expression. “You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

Mr. Jensen looked wounded. “That is an outright lie.”

Clay shook his head. He went and busied himself as he dad launched into his one man stand up show complete with his usual routine of everything that was wrong with the New York Post, the difference between peanut butter and jelly, and a scathing review of the recent DC films complete with an awful Batman impersonation.

Mrs. Jensen walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in a Nike tracksuit and her hair was in a ponytail. Mr. Jensen discreetly lowered his iPad to look her up and down appreciatively. Clay was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Had a nice run, babe?”

“It was refreshing. Look at me. I’m physically fit, I have a great job and amazing family,” she listed off, fingers pressed to her neck to track her pulse. “I’m practically Maria Shriver.”

Clay cleared his throat. “Didn’t Arnold cheat on Maria and have a secret love child by like the housekeeper or something?”

Mr. Jensen rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and flexed a bicep. “I could totally be Arnold in this scenario.”

Mrs. Jensen gave him a pitying look. “Oh, honey.”

“It looks like a bicep, but smaller,” said Clay, poking his dad’s thin arm. It was a move that Justin totally would've done.

Mrs. Jensen _cackled_. At her husband’s nonplussed look she walked over and Clay was given a front row seat to his parent’s make out session. He threw up his hands making the sign of the cross with his fingers.

“My eyes!” he cried, retreating until his back hit the countertop. “I’m an impressionable youth. A _youth_ I say!”

They broke away with a smack of lips. Mrs. Jensen draped herself over her husband nibbling on the toast in his hand. He gave her an annoyed look that didn’t quite disguise the fondness in his eyes.

“Your father texted me about your camp out in the bathroom,” she said, running her fingers through Mr. Jensen’s shaggy hair. He took his glasses off and leaned back to give her better access. “I need a shower. Is there any hot water for me?”

“Could be. Could be not. Who’s to say?” said Clay with a coy smile. There was no hot water left. “And by the way let’s talk about you two and your obsession with me. Really, Dad? Sending Mom a text to tattle. I’m disappointed in you.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shook his head and then picked up an orange before wandering out of the kitchen. A minute passed before he slowly slinked back in and his parents watched him stand there in the doorway, picking at a stray thread hanging loose on the edge of his hoodie’s sleeve.

“Oh, look it’s Alex P. Keaton,” said Mr. Jensen, before taking a long sip of his coffee and looking at Clay with judging eyes.

Clay frowned. “Who?”

Mr. Jensen winced and muttered, “I have really got to stop aging myself.”

Clay nodded. He really did. His weird 80’s references were lost on him. “So I’m going to need a favor?”

A slow grin spread across Mrs. Jensen’s face. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“I once had a puppy who looked at me the same way,” said Mr. Jensen. His voice was deadpan but his eyes were all crinkly.

“I’m coming to you on my knees here -”

Mrs. Jensen blinked. “You’re still standing.”

“Metaphorically speaking.” Clay plowed right on. “I was wondering if I could borrow one of your cars for the day.”

Mr. Jensen didn’t look up from the article he was reading. “Sure.”

Mrs. Jensen shrugged. “I don’t mind either.”

Clay’s jaw dropped. They sat there at the table still making their way through the breakfast spread across the surface. They didn’t even look up or give it more than a second’s thought. His eyes narrowed regarding them suspiciously.

“I’m going to be honest here. I expected a lot more haggling. I’m both pleased and cautious.” He looked at them warily. “What’s your game?”

“Oh, please,” Mrs. Jensen replied, cutting into her eggs. She pointed her fork at him. “You just got your driver’s license yesterday. The dance is today at school. It was only a matter of when you were going to ask.”

Mr. Jensen put his hand on his chin and looked at her with big moony eyes. “I love it when you turn into Sherlock Holmes.”

“Awesome, fantastic!” Clay said loudly, hoping to interrupt them before they started making eyes at each other.

No such luck. They leaned forward and he was once again treated to them kissing. Clay snatched the keys off the counter and darted for the door before the image seared itself behind his eyelids.

…

Clay parked his dad’s Prius in front of Monet’s. Today was going to be a long one and he needed a caffeine boost if he was going to make it through it. Tonight especially. He needed to be on his toes.

He paused mid step when he walked into the cafe. His eyes landed on Skye Miller and he was hit with a wave of bittersweet memories. It had been a year and a half since he had last seen her. She moved to LA and didn’t look back. She loved it. They still talked online...did talk online… He reminded himself.

This Skye was 16, class misfit, outcast and so terribly lonely.

Well, not this time. Clay squared his shoulders and walked up to the counter. Skye gave him an empty smile.

“Can I help you?”

Something in Clay’s chest went tight. He wasn’t used to her being so cold. At least not to him. Not anymore. He mustered up his best Clay smile (bright and friendly and definitely not the smirky and secretive grin he wore when both were three beers deep and talking shit about their old classmates).

“Hey, Skye. I didn’t know you worked here.”

Skye frowned looking utterly bored. “I don’t. I’m just a customer like you.”

“But your shirt says Monet’s.”

She rolled her eyes. “Clay do you like want something or what?”

“Medium Americano, please,” he said, because she looked like she was one second away from just walking off, clocked in or not.

He watched her work on his drink for a silent minute. Her highlighted hair was up in a messy bun held in place with a pair of pencils. Clay saw the alligator tattoo on her neck and a soft smile formed on his face remembering a conversation years ago.

“What are you looking at?” Skye asked blandly, eyes narrowed into slits. With the dark eyeliner on it had the effect of making the expression a tad frightening.

She probably thought he was ogling her or whatever. Clay shook his head. “I’m just remembering something.”

“Were you now?” said Skye, and her tone said she clearly didn’t believe him.

Clay’s eyes flicked to her neck again. “The alligator. Is it because the story your mom used to tell you whenever you went over bridges? Look for the purple alligator and you would be too distracted to cry.”

Something flickered in her eyes and her expression relaxed the tiniest bit. “That’s right,” she said, surprise making her voice lighter. For the first time, she smiled a little. “You remember that?”

He wanted to pump his fist but instead settled for grinning. “Of course. We were friends.” _And in love_ , but that was another time and was doomed to ruin. His grin shrunk and he tapped his fingers on the counter, a tiny anxious gesture. “I wouldn't mind if we were again. I mean, I think I’d really like that.”

Silence lingered in the air.

Skye put a lid on the cup. She hesitated for a second and then handed it over saying, “It’s on the house.”

“Is that your way of saying you want to be friends again?” asked Clay, accepting the cup.

She pointed a black nail painted finger at the cup. “It’s my way of saying I’ll think about it.”

Clay lifted the cup to his lips to hide his smile. He took a drink and it tasted like success.

…

The last rays of sunlight threw golden oblongs of light around his bedroom as Clay checked himself out in the mirror one last time. He let an overly friendly worker at the mall help pick out the entire outfit. He sported a dark gray two-button suit with waistcoat and midnight blue silk tie. The slim fitting three-piece suit complimented his mature attitude and slight physique. That was a direct quote the salesman gave him.

Along with the fresh haircut he got earlier Clay had to admit he looked good. The style suited him more and with a little product it looked like it had some life to it rather than just sitting there like a helmet. He cracked a smile at the thought.

“Okay, you can do this,” said Clay, psyching himself up. He adjusted the collar one more time. “Winter Formal 2.0.”

Clay bounded down the stairs and immediately was assaulted by a bright flash of light. He threw up his hands blinking to clear the spots from his vision.

He groaned. “Mom, really?”

“You look so handsome,” she squealed. She adjusted the camera and snapped another picture. “Come on, honey. Strike a pose.”

Mr. Jensen came around the corner to stand next to his wife at the foot of the stairs. He let out a whistle when he caught sight of his son. “Looking sharp, kiddo.”

Clay preened a little once his vision went back to normal. “What can I say? I woke up like this.”

“Modest too. What a catch,” said Mr. Jensen flatly.

Mrs. Jensen dug her elbow into his ribs. She was teary eyed. “You look so grown up.”

Mr. Jensen wrapped his arm around her waist as she laid her head on his shoulder, sniffling. Clay definitely didn’t recall his mother acting like this the first time around. The combination of him driving himself and the new look must really be doing a number on her.

“You have everything? Money, keys, ID.”

He walked down the stairs and let her fuss with his hair some. “Yes, yes and yes. I already double checked. I’m good to go.”

Mr. Jensen clapped his hand on Clay’s shoulder. “Be home by eleven. Alright?”

“Deal.”

Clay was able to leave the house, but not without his mother taking another dozen pictures with a camera in one hand and a handful of Kleenex in the other. She was a mess.

Tonight was going to be like walking a tightrope. He didn’t have difficulty remembering the events leading up to this night. At this point, Alex’s list had made the rounds at school. Jessica and Hannah had fallen out, the jocks were harassing Hannah and tonight Courtney was going to torpedo another girl’s reputation to save her own. From there the rumor mill would spin leading to Marcus’ sexual harassment, Zach’s thoughtless revenge, then Ryan… and…

Clay’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

The student parking lot was packed when Clay pulled in. It was a cloudless night and the stars were just coming out. Clay gazed up at the moon. He could do this. Checking the time again he took a deep breath and headed inside.

The bass of the music hit him before he even stepped foot inside the gym. Thankfully the music wasn’t terrible. Tony had good taste. The decorations and muted lighting were doing wonders for making the gym look like a cheap underage nightclub.

“They really blew the budget for this,” said a dry voice.

Clay turned to Alex as he entered the gym right behind him. “The Student Council is saving the big bucks for prom.” He looked closer at Alex’s downtrodden face. “Hey, you okay?”

Alex shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I was supposed to come with Jessica.”

“Ah.” Clay nodded in understanding and then said, “You know that list was fucked up.”

Alex sighed. “Don’t remind me.”

His voice was so full of regret and Clay knew he meant it. It had been a little over a week since he'd last spoke to Alex and it was a string of texts checking in on him because Alex _always_ freaked out around midterms. Alex was mentally in a better place and was majoring in psychiatry at USCF. Alex might not have the scars to show it this time but Clay knew what guilt could do to him. 

“You should really apologize to both of them. Write a note, message them online or something. Just get it out there. What you did was really fucked up, but it doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.”

“I’ve already apologized like a million times.”

Clay looked him in the eyes. “Make it a billion.”

Alex ran a hand through his blond hair, eyes distant and thoughtful. He shook his head a little and peered at Clay with a confused half grin. “You know, that’s the most you’ve ever said to me. I didn’t realize you were like the wise dude on campus.”

“Nah. I just think people shouldn’t give up on love.”

“How the hell did you get the reputation as the class shy boy?”

Clay was going to give him a blow off answer, but his eyes landed on Jessica. He gestured to her standing next to one of the many cardboard cutouts of winter scenery. _Geez_ there was a lot of blue and silver decorations around here.

“There’s your chance. It may seem like she hates you now, but I’m sure she cares about you still. Go for it.”

Alex adjusted his dark grey jacket and let out a slow breath. He gave Clay a shaky grin. “Watch me crash and burn.”

“Then try again tomorrow,” Clay countered. He pushed him a little. “Good luck.”

Clay saw Alex weave his way through the dancing bodies. Jessica watched him with an annoyed face when Alex got within eyesight, but she didn’t run away in the other direction. That was a good sign. Clay scanned the gym looking for Hannah. He had no idea what time she was coming.

Right then Marcus gave Clay one of those cool jock nods as he passed by and Clay rolled his eyes. What a tool. Zach was walking next to Marcus and happened to see the entire exchange. He bit his bottom lip to stop his smile. He caught Clay’s eye over Marcus’ head and they shared a commiserating look.

Clay didn’t mind Zach. He was a minor douche but he had a good heart. Considering Clay keyed his $60,000 car and Zach didn’t do anything but pout, Clay considered them even. Then during the trial, Zach showed his true colors and came through - the polaroids, helping Alex and choosing what was right over what was easy. 

Clay caught sight of Jeff and waved. He bursts out laughing when Jeff did a little jig as he walked over. They exchanged a high five both grinning widely.

“I didn’t realize we were in the presence of a One Directioner. Look at those moves!”

Jeff brushed off imaginary dust from his shoulders. “Look up some of my dance tutorials on Youtube when you get a chance.”

Clay’s mouth dropped. “Really?”

“No!” Jeff laughed so hard nearby people gave him looks. “I bet you were really going to go home and start googling me too.”

“Calm down, chuckles,” Clay grumbled. He was going to look him up right there on his phone, but he wasn’t going to tell Jeff that. “You are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Jeff smiled a wild wide grin. “You lie.”

“I would never.”

“It took me a minute to recognize you, Cinderfella,” teased Jeff. He nodded approvingly at the suit. “You got a glass slipper to leave the lovely princess tonight?”

He was going to give her his heart.

Clay shook his head, smiling. “How much is Disney paying you for this free promo?”

“You know I worked as a prince on a Disney cruise last summer?”

Clay slowly turned his head and stared into Jeff’s ridiculous twinkling eyes and white teeth. “Of course you did.”

A flash went off and Clay blinked quickly to clear the spots. The universe was really out to destroy his vision tonight. Tyler put his camera down a bit and gestured for them to stand closer.

“Can I get another one, please? It’s for the yearbook.”

A simple request but Clay still wanted to grab Tyler’s camera and throw it out the damn window. These pictures weren't going to do anyone any good. Jessica had never told him who weaponized those pictures of her from his night, labeling her a drunk slut but Clay had a few guesses.

“Sure, dude.”

Jeff hooked his arm over Clay’s shoulders and held up the peace sign with the other. Clay barely managed to mirror the pose before the flash went off again and Tyler wandered off to play normal high schooler instead of the local teen stalker. Clay's heart went out to him. It wasn't time. Not now.

Jeff glanced at his phone and winced. “Eleven text messages is she serious? Sorry, dude. I have to go find my date before she has a meltdown.”

Clay chuckled. “Later, man.”

Jeff took off like a bat out of hell and Clay thought it was hilarious. He couldn’t remember who Jeff brought to the dance in either timeline. He glanced around and then stopped zeroing in on Courtney Crimsen. She was dancing with her two sidekicks but he didn’t see Hannah anywhere. He cut through the dance floor until he was right up next to her. He tapped her on the shoulder.

Courtney’s eyes widened and her face lit in recognition. “Clay!”

“Hey, Courtney,” he said, letting her pull him into a dance. “When did you guys get here?”

She shrugged. “Not long. Ten minutes ago I think. Why?”

“I’m looking for Hannah.”

“She was right behind us. We must have lost her. Are you having fun? The decorations turned out pretty good.”

Clay caught sight of Justin and Bryce swapping a flask at the edge of the dance floor. His vision went red. If he hadn’t been dancing with Courtney he would have done something stupid. Clay had been deliberately avoiding that particular friendship this whole time. To see Bryce in a suit and not in prison orange was making him shake.

“Clay?” Courtney touched his hand. He was trembling.

He looked down into her concerned eyes. She had no idea. Clay sighed. “Sorry, Courtney. Listen, there’s something you should know.” He couldn’t tell her the truth, but maybe…”You know that picture going around.”

She stiffened. “What about it?”

“No one knows who it is. Some of the athletes are taking bets trying to ID the girls. You know how ridiculous the upper year jocks are.” He stared into her guarded eyes. “They’ve been going up to random girls and saying they know it’s them, trying to get them to confess or embarrass them into admitting who it is or something.”

“Thanks,” said Courtney, hesitantly. “You’re telling me this why?”

Clay let a grin form on his face. “Honor Board members have to watch out for each other.” The grin dropped and his face turned serious. “But it’s good advice. If they come giving you shit just blow them off. That’s it. Nothing more. Promise me, Courtney.”

Courtney looked shaken by the look in his eyes. She hugged him and softly replied, “Promise.”

He wanted to thank her and tell her she was braver than she knew. In a year from now, Courtney would be openly out and it would be her girlfriend twirling with her on the dancefloor. He missed her no-nonsense advice more than ever. It was Courtney who lectured him over Skype when his roommate freshmen year was a deeply closeted farmboy from the midwest.

There was a moment when the bodies around them parted and Clay saw through the dancers to across the floor. Hannah stood there watching Courtney with her arms around Clay’s neck with an expression that was hard to place. Clay met her eyes and they were filled with a distant sadness and something he didn’t have a name for. Clay felt his stomach tighten and the moment felt like the longest in his life.

The gap closed as the dancers pressed close together again and with it, he lost sight of her. He pulled away from Courtney without a backward glance. He had hopefully settled her nerves that were frayed by the rumor mill. It may not be enough but hopefully, it would due for tonight.

Clay found Hannah sitting on the first row of bleachers nearest the exit. She was wearing the black and purple dress he had seen countless times in his dreams. Her lips were pulled into a frown as she played with the corsage around her wrist and Clay had never seen a lovelier sight. He took a seat next to her.

He leaned closer so she could hear him. “Hi.”

She looked up and smiled, but it seemed forced to Clay. “Hey.”

Clay wasn’t detoured. He was going to get past this here and now. “I’m glad I found you. I was just asking Courtney where you were.”

Her eyes looked at him briefly and then darted away. “No big deal. You two looked close.”

A long time ago Clay had been bad at reading signs. Signs from girls might as well been in another language. Hannah may have said it in a tone that seemed as if she was completely unbothered, but Clay’s eyes were on her hands. Particularly the way she was still fussing with her corsage, a nervous action that he recognized in himself.

“Not that type of close,” said Clay, looking out across the dance floor. “I’m not even Courtney’s type.”

Hannah’s head snapped around. “Clay! What do you know?”

Clay shook his head and mimed zipping his mouth closed. “Nothing. Not my business to tell.”

Hannah smiled and this time it was real. “What? Loose lips sink ships.”

He poked her forearm with his finger. “That’s the second rule of fight club.”

The laugh she let out was delighted and Clay’s stomach went all weird again. Only this time it made him feel warm and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Clay pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Tony. All it said was three words.

“I was on gum scraping duty last night at work,” said Hannah with an exaggerated shudder.

“Oh yeah?” asked Clay, wiggling his eyebrows.”Did you save me any good ones?”

Hannah knocked her shoulder against his. “Of course. Last row, second chair from the left wall. I combined them all and put them under the seat just for you.”

Clay’s blue eyes widened until they were impossibly huge. “You have just made me the happiest man in this room right now.”

“Of course you would like scraps, Scooby.” Hannah looked like she was trying hard to keep a straight face. “Get it? Because you are a cartoon puppy, Clay Jensen.”

Clay threw his hands up. “Why do people keep saying that?”

Hannah lost it. She slapped a hand on his thigh when she laughed, falling against him a little. Clay felt like he was floating. He gave her a playful pitiful pout and Hannah pulled away looking very amused and satisfied. He could still feel her laughter vibrating through his torso.

The muscle tapered off and Tony’s voice came over the speakers. “We’re going to slow it down now. This song goes out to a special someone.”

Clay looked up at the DJ booth. Tony was grinning a tad too smugly and Clay knew he definitely owed him as the opening melody of _The Night We Met_ echoed through the gymnasium. Couples paired up as the singer began crooning the opening notes.

Clay stood from the bleachers and faced Hannah with a solemn expression. He bowed low at the waist and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Her eyes were practically sparkling. She schooled her joy into an expression that mirrored his. “You shall, my lord.”

She took his hand.

Clay led them out into the sea of dancers. They slipped between the swaying bodies and then he wrapped his arms around her waist. Hannah’s arms automatically went around his neck and that was it. They fit together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces. It was both fantastic and utterly heartbreaking. In another time fear kept him from closing the distance and show the emotion that pounded away in his heart. That was another time. Another place. Here and now that fear was gone and in its place was something beautiful.

Clay stared at the gorgeous face that haunted his dreams and said what was in his heart. “You look incredible tonight.”

Hannah looked at him, eyes tracing over his face and taking him all in. “That was my line. You…” Her thumb traced the skin on the back of his neck, and Clay came undone. “You look really amazing. I love your hair.”

Clay smiled a little, completely and utterly gone for this girl. “New hair. New me.”

Hannah’s eyes met his. “You’re still Helmet to me.”

“Yeah,” he said, and he didn’t even know what he was saying yes to. His thoughts were a blur and he wanted to fill the silence with anything because not talking was awful. Clay lived in a world where he didn’t get to talk to her anymore and he never wanted to feel that way again. This right now is the world he wanted. What he _needed_. “Yeah.”

Clay felt like they were dancing on air. Hannah’s hands around his shoulders were the only thing tethering him to the earth. It was like magic. Her skin on his felt like fire and it burned all the way to his core. He wanted to never let this feeling go.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in this school. Beautiful inside and out,” said Clay, smiling, and then he lowered his voice and leaned in so their foreheads were almost touching. “Especially to me.”

Their eyes locked. The blue in her eyes was captivating, swirling and churning like a whirlpool in the furthest depths of the ocean. They were alive in a way that Clay had never seen before. His hand came up to her cheek and he gently traced the curve there, committing this moment to memory.

A loud laugh broke the tranquil spell that descended over the gym. Clay already knew what he was going to see before he looked up. His vision confirmed it. Jessica was stumbling, laughing, completely drunk and Justin and his gaggle of jocks and dates were laughing like a pack of uber clowns.

“Dear, Lord,” Hannah muttered. Concern and disapproval warred on her face. She looked apologetically at Clay. “I should go take care of that.”

She looked into his eyes and he saw what he didn’t see the first time in that searching gaze. Clay’s hand slipped down into hers, fingers threading together as if they did it all the time.

“I’ll come with you. You might need a hand.”

Hannah’s face softened with what looked like relief. Together they marched across the gym. Clay half expected Montgomery to pop up like the ghost of Christmas past again, but he was still hanging near Justin and laughing as they passed the flask around. Both of them were dressed in all black and looked like a pair of dicks. 

They were brought up short by Alex parting through the dancers just ahead of them. He caught Jessica mid stumble and she fell into his arms with an exuberant laugh. Hannah and Clay rushed forward.

“I got you,” Alex murmured, holding Jessica close.

Hannah touched Jessica’s face, mustering up a comforting smile for her. “I think it’s time we got you home.”

Clay stood at her side glaring daggers at Justin. He knew this was going to happen and it was stupid, but he was still so disappointed in Justin. He turned his glare on Bryce and the bigger boy wasn’t even paying attention instead making out with a girl Clay recognized from his grade. Concern flickered in Justin’s eyes as Alex helped Jessica to stand. It was easy enough to read. They were brothers or _had_ been brothers, this was so messed up. Clay stared hard at Justin and he so badly wanted to say,  _you're better than this_.

“It’s not our fault she couldn’t keep up with the big boys,” said Montgomery, because what was the night without needless commentary from Montgomery de la Cruz.

Clay sneered at him. “Humble yourself.”

Hannah slipped her hand back into his. She shot Justin a parting look of frustration and disgust. “Let’s go.”

Together the four of them left the dance.

It was hours later, after jump starting Hannah’s car because the battery died, and making sure they all got home safely that the enormity of it all hit Clay when he was lying awake in bed. Holy fuck. He did it.

He changed the future.


	4. Shuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! Real life kicked in. But to make up for it instead of splitting the chapter up I combined them. So you have a chapter twice as long as the normal length. I really hope you like it. It's a bit different than the previous ones, I don't want to spoil it. I like how it came out. Hopefully I can update next weekend like normal.

Liberty High was different than her last school. It was bigger, crowded and frightfully easy to slip through the cracks and go unnoticed. The school year was more than halfway over and she was still trying to find her way. All the kids here grew up together and the bonds of friendship were forged with shared history. New faces were welcomed but one wrong step and the ground was broken underneath your feet, faces staring down impassively as you fell into the void.

Hannah locked the door to the Jeep and stared up at the school. The mistakes she made, the trust she so easily shared just to have it broken, didn’t weigh at her so much these days. The stupid hate messages and harassment littering her inboxes on social media had tapered off. It was like the universe had finally had enough of kicking her while she was down. It felt like things were getting better. For once.

Kids swarmed the parking lot but Jessica managed to spot her with ease. She broke off a conversation with Sheri and made her way over. There was one thing that was looking up. Jessica showed off a piece of pink paper waving it around a bit like a fan. Her smile was positively devious.

“I’m afraid to ask what that is,” Hannah said in greeting.

Jessica tapped the paper with her finger. “This right here is Cupid 2k17.”

“You can just pronounce 2017. Don’t try and turn this into a hashtag.”

Jessica rolled her eyes and thrusted the paper at Hannah. “You say that like you’re not interested but I totally know you are. Here, I got you a copy too.”

She was interested. Hannah took the offered sheet of paper and quickly read it over. “You can’t be serious. This looks like those TigerBeat quizzes I used to take when I was like twelve.”

“Please. This right here is way more complex.”

 _“What is your idea of a fun Saturday night?”_ Hannah read off and just stared at the other girl. “Groundbreaking.”

“Always the rebel, Hannah Baker,” Jessica laughed at her dry reply. “All you have to do is describe yourself and then what you’re looking for in someone else. Then you get matched with five names and phone numbers of who could potentially be your knight in shining Armani.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Did Sheri pay you for this free promo?” She shook her head. “Anyway, it’s way too expensive.”

She started to walk past her, but Jessica moved in front of Hannah. “It’s _Dollar_ Valentines. One measly buck and you could be matched up with prince charming.”

“We’re still not over the recession,” Hannah pointed out, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Some of us aren’t made of money.”

Jessica’s jaw dropped. She pointed to the Jeep behind them. “Your dad bought you a new car for the Winter Formal!”

“Correction, he got himself a new car. I just drive it sometimes because my parents like carpooling so they can listen to podcasts together.” Hannah looked her up and down suspiciously. “You’re really invested in my love life suddenly. Since when did you become Tinder’s CEO?”

Jessica rolled her eyes and then linked their arms together. She set a brisk stroll across the parking lot toward the lawn. “I told you last week I’m done with the internalized misogyny. New year new me.”

Hannah snorted. “It’s not a brand new year.”

“My point still stands,” Jessica said promptly. “Chicks before dicks. You had my back even after I was a total bitch to you and that put it all into perspective for me. You could’ve left my drunk ass at the dance but you didn’t, and that Hannah Baker,” she said, tapping her finger against the tip of Hannah’s nose, earning her a playful glare. “is why you’re my shero.”

Hannah ducked her head to hide the smile blossoming on her face. She couldn’t lie it felt good to have Jessica as a friend again. The way they stopped talking was ugly and tainted the good memories they shared. The betrayal still stung but it wasn’t the painful ache it used to be. Maybe in the end they would be stronger for it. It felt a whole lot like a restart.

Truthfully she was grateful for the company.

Too sensitive is what people have always called her growing up. _Hannah is a charming girl, but she tends to be overly emotional,_ was written in red on progress reports sent home during grade school and _Hannah had another episode on the playground after a kid teased her._ She knew she felt too much and tended to hang on to things until it festered as doubts and whispers that filled her cluttered mind, and being alone allowed the thoughts to turn darker and darker until they piled up. The friendship was a relief because it forced her back into her body rather than drifting away in her thoughts.

Hannah folded the paper up and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. “As nice as that speech was, I’ll _think_ about doing this survey.”

Leaning into her, Jessica put a hand over her heart. “You’re so gracious.”

“And your shero,” Hannah reminded her.

She tugged a little on the scarf Hannah wore over a denim jacket. “Not all heroes wear capes.”

They shared a laugh as they maneuvered through the courtyard. It was nice out so most of the outdoor tables were taken. Hannah looked over at Jessica to see her smiling down at her phone with a pleased expression.

Hannah glanced at the phone screen. “Are you snapchatting Alex?”

Jessica made a face. “He snaps me.” Then she admitted, begrudgingly, “And I may snap him back occasionally.”

“Oh my, God,” said Hannah with raised eyebrows. “Is that like a thing that’s back on?”

“After that whack list? Hard pass. _But_ ,” she dragged the word out. “I was reminded he’s not such a bad guy. He makes a better friend than boyfriend.”

“Speaking of,” said Hannah, nodding to the table up ahead.

Alex sat on the bench with his back against the table. A guitar sat on his lap and his long fingers strummed a tune that was barely audible over the noise of the crowd. On the table’s other side was Clay. He straddled the bench engrossed in a paperback. He looked carefree and relaxed in a way that Hannah had seen glimpses of more and more lately.

It was a sight that was new as it was still surprising. Clay had always been adorably charming in his own awkward way. He was the friend that Hannah needed when all others left. He was good right down to his core, but there had always been a part of him that he held back. It was in the way he said one thing, usually the wrong thing, but his eyes shone with different thoughts that would make her so frustratingly sad because she could _see_ how he really felt but he never would say it. It was like he was deliberately keeping a piece of himself guarded, switching between being maddeningly sweet and horribly anxious. His fingers would fidget with the hem of his hoodie in this absent but curious way, like he was trying to channel that nervous energy into that one gesture rather than let it all out.

Clay was different these days. It was like he finally found something he didn’t know had been missing. There was an easiness about him now, in the gait of his stride, smiles that were brighter and laughter that was delightfully happy. He still walked around like he was straight out of a Disney cartoon and made of rainbows with his _aw shucks_ blush and big sky blue eyes, and then he would leave you reeling. It was the way he grabbed her wrist at her locker that day all dark eyes and whispered words, or when he would glare at her tormentors sometimes, or the time he leaned in at the dance and looked at her like she was the sunrise on a dark morning and said _you’re the most beautiful girl in this school_ into her ear.

It stopped her heart, her breath, everything - It felt like a dream.

A dream she never wanted to wake up from.

Clay looked up from his book as Jessica and Hannah approached. His face broke out into that stupidly adorable smile. Hannah’s heart leaped in her chest. A matching smile broke out over her face.

“Is this seat taken?” asked Hannah, pointing to the spot next to Clay.

He looked up and his smile turned into a teasing smirk. “Yes.” It transformed into a grin under her playful glare. “I was saving it for you.”

Hannah snorted and took the seat. “Smooth, Helmet.”

“Like Astroglide.”

Jessica groaned from her spot next to Alex. “Clay, really?”

Alex laughed brightly. “I thought it was funny.”

Looking triumphant, Clay pointed at him. “See he gets me. I’m hilarious.”

“So funny,” Jessica said dryly. “Your HBO stand up kills.”

Clay smiled at her, all teeth. “My biggest fan. Who knew.”

Jessica squinted at him. “I thought you were the quiet one in our class.”

Hannah actually nodded along a little at that, because that was true at the beginning of the school year. Hell, it was even true a month ago. Clay looked at Jessica with an expression Hannah couldn’t place. She thought she saw a flash of something that looked like triumph in his eyes. It was gone before she could truly be sure.

“Clay’s a man of hidden skills,” Alex spoke up, earning a fist bump from Clay.

“How did you find out about his gum scraping talent?” Hannah asked with a gasp. She looked at Clay and crossed her heart. “I promise I didn’t tell.”

Clay hooked a thumb at her and grumbled, “Do you see how she treats me?”

 _“He’s holding back he’s hiding. But what, I can’t decide. Why won’t he be the king I know he is. The king I see inside,”_ Alex sang, playing his guitar with a devilish smirk. He turned to Jessica, grinning. _“Can you feel the love tonight?”_

Jessica let out an explosion of laughter that was so loud people glanced in their direction. Clay’s phone screen was lit and he waved it in the air in lieu of a lighter. Hannah rolled her eyes when he bumped his shoulder against hers. Jessica met her gaze and wiggled her eyebrows. The knowing look on her face was enough to make Hannah’s face grow hot. She looked away wondering why her heart was beating so fast.

Alex stopped playing and bowed his head a little. “Thank you, thank you. Tips are appreciated.” He looked around the table. “Hint, hint.”

“How dare you,” Clay demanded, frowning at him. “Music is a gift.”

“So gift me five bucks.”

Clay looked like was contemplating throwing his book at him. He turned to Jessica and pointed to the paper she was scribbling on.

“I see the cheerleaders roped you into their Oh My Dollar Valentine.”

Jessica looked up from her diligent writing and leveled him with an unimpressed look. “I’m trying to rope me a man.”

Alex cleared his throat and said with his voice entirely too high, almost frantic, “Marvelous day we’re having.”

They all stared at him.

Hannah turned to Clay. “Are you going to do one of those?”

Clay’s answering smile was puzzling. It caused Hannah to feel all weird and floaty. He shrugged and his expression was coy.

He hummed under his breath. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“So am I,” Hannah confessed.

She knew why she was hesitant. It would be her luck to get matched with one of the school’s resident jerks. She didn’t need a survey to tell her who she wanted.

Hannah watched, amused, as Jessica continued to ignore Alex’s nonchalant attempts to flirt, but still happened to notice when Clay pushed the green sleeves of his hoodie up over his forearms and that his arms were vascular and toned. He had nice hands, too, and his fingers were long like a pianist. She wondered if he played.

“Earth to Hannah.”

She jerked her gaze up from staring at his arms feeling her face flush. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Clay sighed dramatically. “Y tu, Brutus.”

“Dork.”

Hannah caught Bryce walking in their direction with his usual gang of wannabe T-Birds. They were the local equivalent of a walking STD. Hannah could feel herself tense at the sight of Justin Foley laughing along with Zach Dempsey. In her peripheral vision she noticed Clay’s hands tighten into fists.

Bryce caught her eye and a smarmy smirk creeped along his face. Oh no. “Well lookey here,” he said in his extra loud way that was so annoying. “Are you guys auditioning for a 2017 Breakfast Club?”

Jessica blinked. “That makes zero sense.”

“It does. See there’s the four of you and-”

Hannah laughed in his face. “I’m going to stop you right there. The breakfast club was five people.”

Bryce frowned. “Have you even seen that movie?”

Alex snorted. “Have you?”

Montgomery slapped Bryce’s arm and leaned a bit on his shoulder. “If anything they’re giving off more of a knock off Riverdale vibe.” He pointed at Alex and listed off, “You got your Archie,” then gestured to Hannah. “Betty,” He nodded at Jessica. “Can’t forget about Veronica,” and then Clay. “And of course Jughead.”

Beaming, Justin high fived him. “Good one.”

Montgomery winked at Hannah. “Or maybe you should be Veronica. I know how you like to get down and we all know you’re the feisty one if you know what I mean.”

Bryce and his group laughed and their smirking expressions cut into her like a hot knife. Hannah’s whole world tilted on its axis. Her skin felt tight and uncomfortable. She wanted to be anywhere other than here.

“Wait a minute,” Clay’s voice rang clear over the whooping laughter. He paused so all eyes could land on him. He looked up at Montgomery with wide eyes and his voice was wondrous when he asked, “You can read?”

“Oh, shit,” Jessica muttered.

Montgomery took a step forward. “What did you just say, Clark?”

“My name is Clay, _Mickey,”_ he said, evenly.

Hannah’s jaw dropped. It felt like she was floating outside of her body. Montgomery lunged forward and Jessica screamed. Zach and Justin grabbed him around the shoulders. Bryce put a hand on his chest.

“Dude, chill!”

Everyone in the area turned to the show that was currently going on. Hannah put her hand on Clay’s arm. She couldn’t tell if it was for her comfort or his. Her heart was beating so loud and it felt like it was trying to climb out of her throat. Tony suddenly broke through the crowd looking cool under the glares the jocks leveled at him as he staked out a spot standing next to Clay. He took his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket and crossed his arms.

“We got a problem here, Clay?” he asked casually.

Clay hadn’t moved an inch. He stared at Montgomery with an almost bored expression. “No problem. Montana and his friends were just leaving.”

Justin swore under his breath staring at him incredulous. “ _Jesus Christ,_ Jensen.”

Bryce met Tony’s eyes and the hesitation there was apparent. He grabbed Montgomery by his shirt rattling some sense into him. “Cut it off, bro. Let’s go already. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Tick tock,” Clay murmured, barely audible. If Hannah hadn’t been sitting so closely she wouldn’t have heard him.

Montgomery shot off one last threat of, “This isn’t over!” before they dragged him off.

“What, are you a cartoon villain now,” Clay shouted back. “Hit the road, Megatron.”

“Oh, snap!” Alex cheered, beating his hands on the table like a drum.

Shaking his head Tony stepped back and gave him an exasperated look. “You got a death wish, Clay?”

“Montgomery de la Cruz is upset, oh no,” Clay deadpanned. “It must be a day ending in Y.”

Jessica pulled her hair back and fanned her face with her hands. “I didn’t know you were this badass. That was hot.”

Hannah turned to give her a look. Jessica shrugged and mouthed _what, it was_ and Hannah didn’t give her the satisfaction of agreeing. Even though she had to admit mentally that Jessica wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Hey,” said Clay, tugging on the hem of her jacket’s sleeve, just barely, and looking at her with a gentle expression. “You okay? He shouldn’t have said that crap about you.”

Hannah felt light, dizzy almost and like she was going to float away. She let herself lean a fraction of an inch into his touch and his hand trailed down, fingertips brushing the back of her hand, and it felt like a caress. Her nerves buzzed with anticipation and a desperate ache of something that she couldn’t name.

“I’m okay,” she answered honestly.

They shared a grin and it felt a lot like flying.

***

Hannah didn’t make it through the day without thinking about the events of this morning. It wasn’t a reach to say it was all she thought about. It was kind of surreal. A little voice in the back of her mind made her wonder if she was projecting her feelings and it didn’t happen that way at all.

She was one of the first ones out the door when the bell rang at the end of the day. Clay wasn’t in her last period class. Hannah had come to a decision. She needed to talk to him. There was no way this was all in her head. There was something there, this sort of energy between them, and it was growing everyday slipping through all the cracks in her defenses. She worried at it constantly, wondering if these strings tied around her heart would ever loosen because right now it felt like she was in a weird sort of limbo of not knowing if her feelings were returned. She desperately needed to know she wasn’t in this alone.

One of those Dollar Valentines posters was hanging on the wall across from her locker. Hannah totally forgot to even fill her survey out. She was distracted all day and it slipped her mind. It would have been perfect if her match was the one person who wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

The crowd in the hallway was thinning quickly as kids ran for the hills. Hannah just needed to grab a couple textbooks and she was going to be right behind them. She started to text Clay with one hand while the other turned the combination lock on the door.

Her finger froze above the send button as she opened the locker and stared. There sitting in between her Algebra and Physics textbooks was an old battered black walkman with a white envelope sitting on top of it.

She looked around trying to spot whoever put this in her locker. The hall was clearing out so it was easy to check if anyone was lingering nearby. Hannah bit her lip as a thousand thoughts flew through her mind.

Reaching for the envelope, Hannah realized her hand was shaking. She wanted to laugh at herself. She felt like a kid on Christmas.

“What?” Hannah muttered after opening the envelope.

She tipped it upside down. Tiny torn pieces of pink paper fell from the envelope to land inside the floor of the locker. The bold print and tiny check boxes were still recognizable on the pieces even though the survey was ripped to shreds.

Well there goes Sheri’s new pom poms, she thought. Hannah swept the pieces of the Dollar Valentine off the walkman.

“Retro,” she said to herself, picking up the walkman.

Hannah glanced around again before slipping the earphones on. She pressed play and there was silence for a second before a soft tenor voice began speaking.

 _“Okay, testing, testing,”_ said Clay, immediately a smile began to form on her face. _“Well that was an awful lead in. Well, if you haven’t guessed it’s your favorite dork, Clay Jensen. I know you’re totally wearing that little fond smile right now, like when I’m doing something particularly nerdy. I love that smile.”_

A surprised laugh left her mouth before she could help it. She knew he sometimes played up the dorkiness just to get a reaction out of her, especially when it came to cheering her up.

_“Once someone very close to me, a person I loved very much, recorded tapes like I’m doing now. They left nothing back. It was their highs and lows, the good times and bad. Sometimes I can still hear their voice and I think about the things I should have said but didn’t. I promised myself to live life with no regrets. So consider this me throwing everything out there and putting it all on the line. If you hadn’t guessed by now I’m kind of crazy about you.”_

The declaration made her gasp and she was sure her heart actually _stuttered_. She brought her hand to her mouth in shock.

_“Surprise. I know. If you don’t feel the same you can turn this tape off and we’ll just pretend this never happened. Or there’s door number two. That involves a miniature scavenger hunt. So which will it be?”_

“Game on,” Hannah murmured, beaming, and her heart was filled to bursting.

_“If you’re still listening then here’s your first mission, you have to find tape number two. It contains further instructions for the surprise. You’ll find it in the place where I saw you for the first time. Oh and Hannah, Happy Valentine’s Day.”_

***

 _You have a really smart mouth, oh, you’re such a smart ass_ and _you’re just too smart for your own good_ , Hannah had heard over and over again her whole life from everyone around her. She was the kid who figured out the killer in the middle of the movie and watched smugly as everyone around her gasped during the reveal. She still loved to sneak into the mystery films at the Cresmont. It was just like Clay to notice. He was more perceptive than he let on. A Valentine’s scavenger hunt was right up her alley. Clay so gets her.

She played the tape two more times. The first listen in the school caught her by surprise and blew over her like a whirlwind. She had some time to calm down and felt ready to fully take in the message. It was just so incredible. She fought to tamp down on all the ridiculous, bubbling feelings welling up inside her chest. She just felt so happy.

Even then, that little part of herself that had been hurt in the past, rebelled against her joy. It doubted Clay’s sincerity. Not because she was scared of Clay’s motives. She didn’t think it was a prank, but there was still her stupid insecurities nagging at her. What did Clay see in someone like her? She knew what the assholes at school said about her, some didn’t even have the decency for her to leave earshot and the ugly writing with her name in the bathroom burned behind her eyelids as she laid in bed at night.

Hannah quieted those maddening whispers. She wasn’t going to let her own cynicism ruin this.

“Bingo,” she said, pulling up to her old house.

It was the first house her family lived in when they moved to this town. It was in the nicer part and kids like Bryce and Zach, with his brand new Audi, lived on the same block. Hannah didn’t miss the area. It did hold one special memory and it was the one Clay mentioned. This was where Clay and Hannah met for the first time.

The wind blew gently when she exited the Jeep. The memories soared as she walked up the walkway to the front porch. God, it felt like years had past since the night of her first party. That was the night she was swept away by a boy with a pretty smile and willingness to go along with the crowd.

That was a mistake.

Hannah remembered meeting Clay and thinking he’s not too bad. He didn’t turn heads like Justin, but he also didn’t break hearts. But the more she got to know Clay after working together, sharing laughs, secrets, the more his personality shined through and his smile was the purest thing, like the first rays of light parting through the clouds, and he slowly turned into someone so beautiful that it crept up on her without warning.

Hannah’s hand trailed up the rail of the porch as she climbed the steps. The for sale sign was still there in the exact spot it had been in for months. She climbed the last step and froze. Right there sitting on the porch swing was a small tin box.

Hannah did a fist pump running over to the swing. She picked up the tin and there was writing in loopy handwriting printed in black sharpie that read:

 _She walks in beauty, like the night_  
_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_  
_And all that’s best of dark and bright_  
_Meet in her aspect and her eyes;_  
_Thus mellowed to that tender light_  
_Which heaven to gaudy day denies._

  
Her face filled with surprise and at this point she should really stop being shocked. Clay Jensen was determined to keep her on her toes. Did he know about her poetry obsession or was it just a guess? Maybe she mentioned it to him at some point and forgot. Whatever the case may be the thought behind it was touching.

Hannah lifted the lid and picked up the cassette tape fitted perfectly in the container. She switched out tapes in the walkman, placed the earbuds into her ears and then she hit play. There was a second of dead air before Clay’s smooth voice began to speak.

 _“Tape numero dos. Thanks for sticking it out with me,”_ Clay’s voice caught and Hannah frowned, because for just a moment she thought she picked up a trace of sadness in his tone. But when he spoke again, Clay’s voice was normal, _“I told you these tapes were for me to tell you all the things I should’ve, but never did and I don’t know why I didn’t. No, that’s not true. I was scared. Of what, take your pick. Being embarrassed, rejection, crippling anxiety, I don’t know. But I do know that night of your party I thought you were prettiest girl I had ever seen. Then I got to know you and you were funny, opinionated, blunt, honest and you have a brilliant mind that awes me sometimes. I could never be as creative as you. You leave me breathless.”_

That couldn’t be true. Hannah stopped the tape to let her heart slow down from its frantic beating. Clay was in AP classes and sat on the Student Honor Board. Her grades could never touch his. She wasn’t brilliant or smart or whatever. Yeah, she liked to write a lot and draw sometimes, but those were just hobbies. No one took it seriously. Did Clay really think she was all of those things?

Hannah looked down at her hands. Apparently, Clay saw all those things in herself. It was confusing and strange and terrific and amazing, but he wasn’t here so she couldn’t say any of this to his face.

She took a breath and steeled her nerves, then hit the play button.

_“If this is really confession time I know after the night of the party you started spending time with Justin. The day when that picture went around school, you sat with me at lunch, and pointed something out about me and I lashed out. You were right, I was scared. I was scared to be brave. I couldn’t just admit my feelings for you so I let out my frustration in the worst way. God, I was so stupidly jealous. I told you sometimes it’s better to wait. In my head I meant wait for me to become stronger to admit my feelings…. But that’s not right or fair to you. You deserve someone who is not afraid to scream his feelings for you in a crowded room. I hope you’d let me be that person.”_

A tear rolled down her cheek. Hannah remembered the harsh words and the regretful look that immediately filled his face. She wanted to tell him that she knew. She hadn’t been sure then, but had wondered about the outburst and had put the pieces together over time.

 _“Wow,”_ He laughed and his voice was thick with emotion. _“That felt really freaking good to say. I wanted to tell you that for a long time. Two tapes down. Two more to go. Speaking of the night we met. Find the DJ and you’ll have the third._

It was silent for a long moment and Hannah almost stopped the tape, but not before Clay spoke again.

_“P.S. I tore up my Dollar Valentine because I don’t need a survey to know that I want you.”_

A click and the tape stopped. There was a buzzing sound in her ears that didn’t have anything to do with the earbuds and her fingers felt a little numb. She picked up the phone as a surge of determination overcame her. Quickly navigating to her contact list she hit a name and the phone rang twice before the other line picked up.

“Hello?”

Hannah stood up with the phone pressed to her ear and said, “Tony, hey. I think you have something for me.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I was wondering when you were going to call.”

***

Hannah drove over to the elementary school that was between her house and the mechanic’s shop, where Tony was. When she pulled up Tony was already there. He sat on the hood of the red Mustang drinking a frappucino.

“Well you look cozy,” she drawled, walking up to him.

Tony smiled a big whipped cream covered smile at her. “What can I say? A man loves his fraps.”

“Obviously,” Hannah said with a laugh.

“I have a six page paper due tomorrow and this little baby is the perfect kick in the ass to get me started.”

Hannah cocked her head. “You mean finished.”

“Nope. Started, as in file open new page.”

“You’re going to type all six pages tonight? Wow. Good luck.”

“I like to live life on the edge.”

Hannah was mature enough not to refute his comment by pointing out the sprinkles in his frappucino. Instead she smiled sweetly and started pointedly at him. “I believe you have something of mine.”

Tony waved her closer. “Come here.” He looked around first before reaching into his jacket to pull out a cassette case.

“This isn’t an episode of Narcos, Tony, _jeez,”_ Hannah informed him, plucking the tape from his outstretched hand. “You’re acting like this is a drug deal.”

Tony shrugged innocently. “Sorry force of habit.”

Hannah tapped his chin. “I’d take you more seriously if you didn’t have whip cream on your upper lip.”

“Crap,” he scowled, scrubbing at his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m really ruining my image here.”

“I think that ship sailed when you became Cupid.”

Tony huffed. “Cupid ain’t got nothing on me.” He nodded at the tape in her hand. “Just so you know I’ve never seen Clay like this. Don’t break his heart okay. He really likes you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she replied truthfully.

“I thought so,” he said with a half grin. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m betting on you guys.”

It felt good to have someone else in the know about her feelings. It was freeing. Tony waved before he jumped back into his car. He didn’t even peel out of the parking lot. He totally needed to work on his teen rebel image.

Hannah made her way over to the benches that overlooked the park. The walkman sat in her lap while she slid the third cassette in. On the cover of the cassette written in the same loopy handwriting was a date. The day of the Winter Formal.

She pressed play.

 _“I knew you would figure it out, Nancy Drew,”_ he said, making her snort at his cheerful teasing. _“You remember that song we danced to? The Night We Met. It was the most amazing song.”_

Of course she remembered the song. If she closed her eyes she could hear it playing right now across space and time. The song was associated with one of the most precious memories she had. It was perfect.

_“Is it silly that I’ve thought about it as our song? That might make me sound lame or something but you felt it, too, right? In that moment this connection between us felt undeniable. I know, I know. I’m starting to sound sappy as hell on these tapes, but I need to get this all out. Not telling you how I feel is something that I don’t want to look back on and regret.”_

It was funny but she wanted him to keep talking. The light was being shed on so many of their past interactions, putting meaning to moments that had at the time left her out of sorts and upset. She could listen to him forever.

 _“I wish I got to take you to the Winter Formal that night. But next year isn’t so long away. Now there’s one more tape left to go. It’s in a baker’s store that’s not a bakery. If I played you a song would this count as a mix tape, oh screw it, I’m doing it anywa_ y.”

The opening melody of _The Night We Met_ began playing. A little smile formed on Hannah’s face. Our song, she thought. Yeah. She could get used to that.

***

A baker’s shop that wasn’t a Bakery. Clay was really softballing these clues. It was cute. The sun was going down when Hannah walked into Baker’s. The bell above the door broke the quiet of the pharmacy.

Her parents were behind the counter and paperwork for inventory was spread across the surface. Mrs. Baker nudged her husband with her elbow when she noticed Hannah. They both looked up at her with matching sphinx like smiles.

Hannah looked at them suspiciously. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“How was your day, honey?” asked Mrs. Baker sweetly.

“It’s okay,” Hannah answered, flicking her eyes back and forth between them. “Been productive.”

Mr. Baker grinned. “I would think so.”

“Oh my, God!” Hannah exclaimed, leaning forward over the counter. “You guys know don’t you?”

Nodding, Mrs.Baker let out a squeal unable to contain her excitement. “It’s so romantic!”

“We had a nice chat with a charming young man earlier today,” said Mr. Baker. He smiled wider as Hannah began blushing. “Do you like this boy?”

Hannah didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

Mrs. Baker reached out and took Hannah’s hands to give them a little squeeze. “He’s seems really sweet. If you’re happy we’re happy for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she blinked quickly, feeling her eyes start to tear up.

Mr. Baker reached into the pocket of his lab coat to pull out a cassette case. “Your Romeo left this with me.”

Hannah’s face lit up and she laughed. “My Romeo? Really, Dad. Be more cooler. I dare you.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Your Justin Beiber?”

“I regret this conversation,” Hannah muttered.

Mrs. Baker patted his shoulder and plucked the tape from his hand. “Go back to the drawing board, babe.” She handed the tape to Hannah. “I want to hear everything when you get home.”

“Does that mean I don’t have curfew?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Hannah had to admit she didn’t know how the rest of the conversation went. She knew she answered and replied to questions but all her attention was on the tape in her hand. Seeing she was so distracted her parents practically pushed her out the door so she could go.

Hannah jumped back in the Jeep and reached over for the walkman laying in the passenger seat. She sat parked in front of the store with her earbuds in, ready for the final message. It was with bated breath that she put the tape in and pressed play.

_“This is it. You’re at the finish line. I’m going to keep it brief because I honestly can’t wait to see you. I want to look into your eyes and tell you how I feel face to face. I’m nervous as hell honestly but also really excited. I’m in the place where the stars and moon are brightest. Remember that night? Come find me.”_

The cassette case’s cover was depicted with a sketch of a full moon. Hannah traced a finger over the drawing. All together it was a clue that could only be alluding to the night of the lunar eclipse. Hannah felt a smile creeping up on her at the memory. She had been so stupidly charmed by Clay describing the eclipse that of course she agreed to watch it for him.

Hannah started the car. She squared her shoulders and let out a breath. It was now or never.

Night had crept upon the city by the time Hannah drove over to the Cresmont. She parked near the back because if she was right then Clay wouldn’t be inside. There was a fixed metal ladder with roof access by the dumpsters.

She had to hop a little to grab the rungs. Her hands were sweating and she was terribly nervous. A huge part of herself was scared of messing this up. What if Clay decided that he was wrong about the things he saw in her. That type of rejection would leave her broken open and bared completely. Hannah’s dark thoughts almost made her stop and head back down, but she stomped down on them before the urge was unbearable.

Hannah got to the top of the roof. She struggled to get her footing to climb over the ledge when her hand was grasped in a gentle grip.

“I got you,” Clay promised, looking down at her with complete confidence. “Just put your leg over. There you go.”

Hannah climbed the ledge with his help and let out a relieved sigh. All the thoughts of inadequacy and insecure whispers quieted when their eyes met. It made a funny warmth spread under her skin. Hannah’s face melted into a shy smile.

“Hi.”

Clay grinned a little goofily. “On a scale of one through ten. How surprised were you?”

“9.9,” she answered without hesitation.

“Damn,” he murmured, eyes twinkling. “I’m slipping.”

His thumb was running absently against the back of her hand. It was only at the sensation was when she noticed that they hadn’t released their hands after Clay helped her up. There was a sort of delirious ache blooming in her chest that was growing and going to explode with _something._

Clay was dressed in a nice pair of chinos and a button down red shirt. She felt underdressed in a denim jacket over a plain shirt and jeans. Those worries were chased away with one look at Clay’s smile.

“You’re incredible. I can’t believe you did all this.” She looked down at her shoes. Then she looked at him under her lashes and asked, “Do you mean it?”

Clay touched the tips of their shoes together in a hey there gesture. “Which part?”

“All the things you said about me.”

His face fell open with surprise. “You really don’t see yourself,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re smart and witty, loyal to your friends no matter what, gorgeous and you read books from early English novelists for fun.” Hannah stared at him, shocked. But Clay was still talking, words piling on top of each other. “I find everything about you _incredible.”_ He hesitated then a stilted, shy movement. “And just so we’re clear I’m completely gone over you.”

Hannah forced herself to keep breathing. She hauled Clay in by the front of his shirt and crushed their mouths together.

Clay made a surprised, delighted noise and shifted forward. He pressed them together resting a hand on her waist and the other cupped Hannah’s cheek. Clay’s hand moved from her waist slipping around to settle against the sway of Hannah’s back. It was all so lovely and perfect. This was the stuff of dreams.

He pulled back to stare at her, but they didn’t let go of each other. He smiled and it looked like he was glowing.

“I can’t believe this is happening for real. After all this time.”

“I,” Hannah tried to say, but her throat lodged up and she bit her lower lip, choked up. “Can I keep you? I don't think I can give you up.” She laughed hearing herself, her emotions fumbled between feeling giddy and completely overwhelmed. “I’m crazy about you. If that’s not obvious.”

“I think I’ve been clued in.”

Clay looked at her with a faint, high flush on his cheeks and was toying with a stray hair around Hannah’s right ear, beaming at it. Hannah mirrored his feelings. She felt so incredibly happy. The joy in her heart seemed as if wouldn’t ever dim.

Clay held up one finger. “Just wait right here. One second. While I just.”

He zipped over to a portable speaker that sat on a pile of bricks a few feet away. He fiddled with it for a moment then the haunting notes of _The Night We Met_ began to echo from the speaker.

_‘I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt’_

Clay slowly walked back over and held out his hand. “I believe the last time we were interrupted. Can I have this dance, my lady?”

“Always.”

She took his hand and they moved into each other. Their bodies swayed to the music with the stars above as their witness. The bursting feeling built back up and Hannah was certain she wouldn't _ever_ stop smiling.


End file.
